


115 Greyskull Avenue

by orphan_account



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 14:29:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13977072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: If you want to see all of Tal'Dorei in a city, you go to Emon. There, you can find anything you well please. But if you want to see the true gem of Emon, the conclusion of adventures, mutual respect, angst, and love, well, then you go to 115 Greyskull Avenue.





	115 Greyskull Avenue

If you ever visit Tal'Dorei and wander your way through the country from the east in the cradle of civilization and home to one of the greatest bastions of knowledge, Westruun, to the north to see the dwarven miners in Kraghammer and their crafting wonders, to the depths of the Verdant Expanse to visit Syngorn and be wooed by both elvenkind and their grace, and continue back to the West, you may end up in Emon, the city of fellowship. A port city by all definitions of the word, you may find yourself enchanted by the peoples of the city, the sights, the crafts, and the goods that line the streets. You may find yourself spending weeks and weeks exploring each part of the city, walking through Abdar's Promenade looking for the perfect mask to buy, explore the Central District's plethora of pubs and stores, the Cloudtop District's extravagance and riches, stand in awe in the Temple District's feats of architectural brilliance in homage to the deities that spur on their creators, gape at the spires in the Erudite Quarter as students file past to attend their classes, or simply gaze out into the open ocean by the Port of Emon.

If you make your way into the southern residential areas of Emon, meandering through winding streets, past cul-de-sacs and gardens spilling into driveways, past half-elf children hurtling past on tricycles and gnomish teenagers playing with their dwarven friends on the basketball court, around the local grocer's with the friendly firbolg man behind the counter who always slips the kids that come into his shop a stick of gum, you just might arrive at 115 Greyskull Avenue, a small, quaint little robins egg house with white windowsills, planters filled with the prettiest of flowers and a peach sapling in the front yard. 

If you pick your way past the cobblestone path and low picket fence, gently open the front door, and step gingerly over the shoes strewn across the foyer, if you glide through the living room and all the little trinkets that sit atop the fireplace beside family portraits, make your way through a homely galley kitchen clearly used well and lovingly, and wind your way up the stairs, if you pass the bathroom, door ajar and smelling like lilies and something sweet, make a left at the end of the hall where someone's painted a mural of battle and victory and friendship on the plaster walls, you'll find yourself in the heart of this house.

If you are quiet and push open the door at the right time of day, you might see, leaning against the dresser, a staff bound with leathers and vines, leaves of all colours sprouting from the gnarled wood, and a set of ceremonial armour, buffed and polished, gleaming silver in the soft light of the bedroom. If you're lucky, you might catch view of two people tangled together in bed, one small with a shock of white lively hair tied in braids that dance on their way down her back, another with hair the colour of fire, wild and untamed, splayed all across the sheets as she dozes on her wife's stomach. You might see the cleric, Pike, shifting a small round pair of glasses further up her nose from whence it slid down, flipping a page on her book and absentmindedly petting her wife's hair, humming a tune you can't quite place but know you've heard before because it fills you with a sense of warmth and nostalgia. 

If you visit 115 Greyskull Keep, I can't say if you will find peace in all you do, that you will find resolution to your questions, that you will find finality in your search, but I know that when you close that front door and turn to face the world, you will once again believe in happily ever afters.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago as a study on Tal'Dorei's geography and Emon's culture and to sate my Pikeleth desires, haha. It's totally unbeta'ed because I never really planned on publishing this but we could always use a bit more Pikeleth. Anyways, have some tooth-rotting fluff about married!Pikeleth and a description of Emon that came after reading Mercer's Tal'Dorei Campaign Guide like, eight times.


End file.
